


Thy Bed of Crimson Joy

by GrecianUrn



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-09 20:24:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrecianUrn/pseuds/GrecianUrn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ki is determined not to be helped by a psychiatrist after years of enduring depression, anxiety, and abuse, but after she is referred to Dr. Lecter after her boss suspects something is wrong she finds herself opening up more than she would like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Hannibal, as fun as that would be, and do not make any money from writing this.  
> Kisalia Maglione is mine, as always.  
> The title is from William Blake's "The Sick Rose" from "Songs of Experience".

                 **Chapter One**

 

“What brings you here, Miss Maglione?” The man in front of me with the glorious bone structure and Germanic accent asked me.

                My honey and moss coloured eyes locked onto his much darker ones, searching. But no. This man was much better than me at concealing what was inside. I once thought I was an expert, but one glance into those maroon-tinted eyes made me feel like an amateur. I was already on lock down, my expression slack, nearly seeming to mock his. “I wish to keep my job without being doted on.” I replied, keeping my voice monotone. “I am certain you already know the details of why I am here. I assure you if it were solely up to me I would not be here.”

                He appeared slightly amused for a brief moment, very slightly. “Yes, your supervisor has informed me of why you would be visiting me, but it was still your choice to come. So you must want help?”

                “Oh yes, I would love help, but not in this form. And although I did have a choice, the other option did not have an agreeable outcome.” I loudly clicked my teeth together into a false grin.

Dr. Lecter kept his stony expression. “Why would you not be here if you want help?”

“I cannot seem to obtain the gull to speak with someone I do not have a bond and have to actually be physically or verbally in front of about what goes on inside here.” I tapped the top of my head with my right middle and pointer fingers.

“You have hindering anxiety?” Dr. Lecter questioned, even though he already knew that is why I was sent to him.

“That would be why I was sent here.” I said, not relaxing in the chair in front of the psychiatrist’s giant wooden desk.

His dark eyes roved over me and I tensed. When he noticed how rigid my body had become his eyes shot back to mine. I held his stare without feeling unsettled. “You have no problem with eye contact.”

“No, I do not.” My body relaxed and I place my hands loosely on my lap.

“Why is that?” Dr. Lecter put his arms in front of him on his desk and leaned forward.

“It is how I understand people. You can learn so much by someone’s eyes, but I’m sure you already know that.” I leaned forward as well, glaring right back. That amused glint was back. I smirked.

“One of your colleges reported that you had scars on your arms.” Lecter stated.

“I do. That had to have taken keen observation though. They are not that recent.”

“How long ago?”

I thought for a moment, letting my eyes settle where they wanted to. My eyes squinted a bit as I tried to recall.

“Are you having trouble remembering?”

My eyes did not go back to his. “Yes. I am not good with dates. That is why I used to dislike history classes.” I went back to searching my memories. “It was before my dog died, which was on January 25th, 2013.”

“I thought you are not good with dates.”

“I can remember the worst day of my life quite clearly, numbers and all.” My eyes had settled on his weathered-looking hands. Those weren’t the hands of someone who was a psychiatrist. “Do you have any hobbies?” My eyes went back to his.

“What makes you ask that?” He did look amused this time. He must have known why I asked, but as my psychiatrist he wanted to hear my explanation.

“Your hands aren’t smooth, not rough, but they are not the hands of someone who sits in an office and pours over books and notes. You must work with your hands; mine have been a bit distorted from doing so.” I saw the next question coming. “Yes, I am very observational. I would rather just sit and watch than take part in something. I don’t usually talk this much either. I just do this when I excited or nervous… or extremely tired.”

“Why was the date of your dog’s death the worst day of your life?”

“She was my best friend. I know people say that of dogs, but she really was my best friend, better than any human.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I would reply to that, but I do not wish to get emotional in front of you.”

“Why not?”

“Again, we share no bond.”

“Because it would embarrass you?”

“No. Because it would make me feel uncomfortable, vulnerable.” I was hoping he was getting something out of this so I could get a semi-good report when I went back to work at the Library of Congress on Monday (it was Friday at the time). I wanted to just lie myself out of it like I did the last time I had to see a psychiatrist in the seventh grade, but this man was too good at what he did.

“You’re thinking about something?”

“Always.”

“Anything in particular?”

“I was thinking of lying my way out of this, but I know that you would see through it.” I replied honestly.

“Or you can just talk to me.”

“I won’t.”

“What does it require to form the bond you need to do so?”

“I don’t even think I know anymore. It has always just kind of happened.”

“So you have talked honestly with other people?”

“I am speaking honestly with you.” I still wasn’t letting my tone stray from being monotone.

“What are the scars from?”

I stared at him without saying anything. His eyes were trying to burn holes into mine in order to peek into my soul. “Me,” was my simple replied.

“You made them on purpose?”

“They began when I was around eleven.”

“Self-harm began at the age of eleven for you?”

I did not answer with words, but I let the shield in my eyes down. I knew he would be able to find the answer there.

“Did something happen in your childhood or were you abused?”

“Both,” I replied barely moving my parted lips. I noticed my head was tilted slightly. I was telling this man more than I wanted to. I did not feel comfortable with him, but he was attractive. I had a bad habit of letting too much slip with people I would consider sleeping with. I scoffed at my thoughts.

“That makes you laugh?”

“No, I was thinking about something else… Why I’m giving so much away.”

“Perhaps you just want to get out of here.”

“Maybe. I saw a psychiatrist before.” I said. “For these,” I raised my right arm slightly to show the faint scars that littered the underside of my arm.

Dr. Lecter did not look the least bit surprise. “That is why you do not want to open up to me?”

“That is most of it. I vowed to myself I would never go back. However, I began to think of seeking professional help when the thoughts got too intense.” _Shit. He’s going to pick up on that, you idiot!_

“What thoughts?” He knew he had hit something major.

“I am not going to be able to figure myself out of this…. Suicidal thoughts. They occur at least every other day.”

“Did you err or did you suddenly create some sort of bond with me?”

“It may be a bit of both.”

“You’re not sure?”

“I’m sure.” I went rigid again and my guard went back up.

“Your body language tells me that you are not going to tell me anymore in this session.”

“May I leave?”

“You may, but I expect to see you back here the same time on Monday.” Dr. Lecter told me.

“Monday? But I thought it was only supposed to be every Friday?” I was feeling a bit distressed.

“Yes, Miss Maglione, but I cannot ignore that you just told me you have suicidal thoughts that are nearly a daily occurrence.” He looked at me with those dark eyes that seemed to smolder like dying embers. But he wasn’t dying out, I could tell. There was such a fire hiding behind the mask of those eyes that only wanted you to think that he was docile, fading out.

“Very well, I am glad to be released momentarily at least. Monday night then.” I gathered my purse and stood. Dr. Lecter stood as well. We both walked toward the door. “Goodnight, Dr. Lecter,” I said as I reached for the door.

The doctor opened it before me and bowed his head slightly. “Goodnight to you, Miss Maglione.”

“Gentlemen are so rare these days.” I said to myself as I walked down the hall and out the front door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hannibal, as fun as that would be, and do not make any money from writing this.  
> Kisalia Maglione is mine, as always.  
> The title is from William Blake's "The Sick Rose" from "Songs of Experience".
> 
> I made a playlist.  
> http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLciYWOpCNGkhTM_Zmmo8261yDC04nLbor

** Chapter Two **

 

As much as I did not want to go back to Dr. Lecter’s office on Monday I was going to. There was something about that man that made me want to lean in and wait for more, something undeniably attractive, undeniably dangerous. In the days following up to my next appointment I tried to decide on what I was going to do with myself. Did I want to try and drown my attraction or let it fester? After all, I had told myself that maybe I would actually be better off if I had a hot therapist. My jaw immediately clenched and my face grew hot at the thought. _Yeah, you are definitely going to have to learn how to control your blushing before Monday night._

Monday seemed to have come far too quickly, even if weekends always pass rapidly. My boss seemed to be checking on my far too frequently and asking how I was. I assured him that I was just fine. When my day was about three quarters of the way through I started feeling funny. I immediately knew that it had something to do with my blood circulation. I always had very small veins, and my blood had trouble getting to where it needed to. If I stayed standing I was going to pass out, but I had to finish putting the remaining books on my cart back. I looked at the load and thought that it was not too much. I continued with my work, but when I went to put the fifth book up on the shelf I felt my legs wobble and give out. I went down and the book I had been holding came crashing down on my head, knocking me out.

 

I was surprised by how long I was out. When I woke up I was already in a hospital room. I refused to take any medications to improve my blood flow, and ended up getting a heart monitor that would beep whenever my heart was going crazy. At the end of the month I would go back to the hospital so they could read the results and see if there was anything they could do for it. When I asked the doctor if I could leave he told me that someone was coming to pick me up and had clothes I could change into. I quickly filled out some paperwork. I had no idea who it would be, and the doctor left before I could ask. The only friends I still had that knew where I lived were too far away to come get me, and my roommate was out of town for the week.

I sat up and shifted around, trying to get comfortable with the little sticky things on my chest for the heart monitor. I sighed and gave up, but remained upright, making sure not to slouch to show that I was feeling alright and did not need anything else. The hospital gown exposed my back, making me shiver momentarily. Or maybe my body just sensed who was coming.

There was a knock on the door to my tiny hospital room. “Come in,” I told whoever it was. I eyes widened immediately when that man walked into the room. “You? Why you? How did you get into my apartment?”

“Your landlord let me in.” Dr. Lecter said as he said my medium-sized suitcase on my bed at my feet. I unconsciously bit my lip as I stared at the red and black bag. “I defaulted as your emergency contact since your only one was unable to come.”

“But why?” I repeated, stressing the “why.”

“I am your psychiatrist.” Dr. Lecter regarded me with hardened eyes.

“Are you?”

“You agreed to it.”

“I suppose I did. Very well, I shall change and will be ready to leave if you would be kind enough to step out of the room.” I said, sitting straighter.

Dr. Lecter left the room with a nod, and as soon as the door shut I pulled back the curtain to cover the area near my bed and got up. I went to the bag that was brought to me and shudder when I looked inside. Everything was perfectly folded. _Dear lord, he went in my underwear drawer… he saw all of my bras…and panties…_ My heart monitor immediately started beeping. _NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!_ I tried to calm myself down, but that only made me more excited. I heard the door open. “Are you okay, Miss Maglione?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” I squeaked as I rummaged through the bag. I immediately threw on a bra, knickers, and socks. Dr. Lecter’s taste was far too formal for me. I didn’t see sweatpants or loose T-shirts anywhere. I groaned and settled on the cap-sleeved gray and black sun-dress-like-thing, grateful that I had decided to shave my legs and other parts the night before. The monitor had finally stopped beeping while I was putting the dress on. I hoisted the bag over my shoulder and opened the door. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Please, allow me.” Dr. Lecter said, holding his hand out toward my bag.

I paused for a bit and just stared at his hand. It was usually not within my nature to allow someone else to carry my things as long as I was capable, but I thought that perhaps if I did not let him carry it that I would make him look like a bit of an ass. “Thank you,” I said meekly as I handed over the bag he had packed.

We made our way to the parking garage and to a fancy black car. He opened the door for me and then put my bag in the trunk. _Damn this gentleman thing is really hot. If that heart monitor goes off one more time I swear…_ I waited for the blasted thing to start beeping again, but fortunately it did not.

As Dr. Lecter drove I realized that we were not headed toward my apartment. I frowned. “Are you not dropping me off at home?” I questioned.

“No. You have to be monitored for at least a week, and my home is the most convenient place for you to stay.” Dr. Lecter replied.

“But my pets…”

“I have made arrangements for them.”

“Oh. Good. Thank you. I assure I will pay you back for it.”

“It is no trouble.”

“Well, you are already being paid.” I said, expecting some sort of reaction, but Dr. Lecter’s expression remained constant. _Damn, this man is stone._ “I do not think you will be able to tolerate me for a whole week.”

“I am sure it will help me better understand you.” The psychiatrist said, unmoved.

 _Oh, right. He probably just agreed to this so he could study me._ I gave up and sat silently for the rest of the drive.

As I was walking the steps to my psychiatrist’s house I noticed that I felt incredibly drained. My heart monitor started beeping when I reached the front door.

“Are you okay?” Dr. Lecter asked as he unlocked his door. He turned back to me once it was open.

“Yeah. I just feel exceptionally exhausted.” I said, feeling in a bit of a daze.

“That is to be expected after going through what you just did. Come, I will show you to a guest room.” Dr. Lecter led me into his home.

I had already seen some of his home from my appointment a few days prior, but as I walked up the stairs and down a hall I appreciated the elaborate decorating even more. I really liked his taste. It somewhat reminded me of my own, which the deep reds and dark wood. It nearly felt like home, nearly, only so much larger. The spare room was exquisite as well, and seemed to be rarely used.

Dr. Lecter set my bag on a table near the bed. “I will let you get some rest. If you need anything, just call out. I will hear you.”

 _That’s a little strange. Maybe the house just has good acoustics._ “I really appreciate this. Thank you.” I smiled lightly. _Even if I’m just a fun project to poke at._ Dr. Lecter nodded slightly and left me.

The room was much larger than I was used to sleeping in and seemed a bit menacing as I crawled into the king-sized bed, not caring about what I was wearing anymore. All I wanted to do was fall asleep and get rid of the pounding in my head. I crawled under the intricately-embroidered deep red duvet and was surprised to find silk sheets. I had never slept in silk sheets and feel asleep wondering what sex would be like between them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hannibal, as fun as that would be, and do not make any money from writing this.  
> Kisalia Maglione is mine, as always.  
> The title is from William Blake's "The Sick Rose" from "Songs of Experience".
> 
> I made a playlist.  
> http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLciYWOpCNGkhTM_Zmmo8261yDC04nLbor

** Chapter Three **

 

_My nightmare came to me in flashes. There was a little girl, a scared little girl cowering before grown men. But where was I in this? I did not seem to have a form, I was just overlooking it. The snow around us felt as cold as if it were real. The wind whipped around us, nipping at my nonexistent face. The child cough a bone-rattling cough. No wonder. It was freezing. Why was the poor thing out here anyway? We were surrounded by whiteness and barren trees. Behind us was the wreckage of a house. Where am I? What is this?_

I woke up panting, but my heart monitor stayed quiet. I knew how these nightmares worked. If I fell asleep it would continue. I did not want to fall asleep, I did not want to know what was going to happen to that little girl. But I was so tired. I fell back asleep, biting my lip until it bled.

_I was in a different position. I felt colder, sore, sick… I felt like I had a presence, but I could not move. The men were in front of me now. I was smaller. I was the girl. I suddenly felt very panicked, and I could not tell if it were my own or the child’s. Perhaps it was both. All I knew is that I did not want those men to come any closer. I just wanted to go back into that mangled house. There was someone in there, someone very important._

I forced myself out of the dream. My heart was racing, but the monitor remained silent. I was terrified. Terrified for the girl, and terrified that there was something in the dark room with me. I whimpered as I felt myself being tugged back to sleep.

_One of the men had an axe. He was coming toward me, toward the little girl. With a wicked grin and a sadistic glint in his eyes._

I forced myself back out, not wanting to go back, but it kept calling back to me and pulled me back under.

_As soon as I was back in the dream the man’s snarling face was right in front of mine, raising the axe. I screamed, we screamed, the girl and me, as our body was hacked at. It hurt like nothing I had ever felt. Not even like coming out of surgery without painkillers. Our screaming was gurgled by our blood and it bubbled in our mouth._

I jolted awake in the corner of the room, curled up as tightly as I could. My body ached. I felt exposed. I felt like there was definitely something in the room with me. Something. I realized that I had actually been screaming when I went to swallow and my throat prickled. I also realized that my heart monitor was wailing. The corners of my eyes were wet with tears, but I was too terrified to produce anymore or even move. Something was moving, something was definitely moving, but it was too dark to see. There was a knock on the door that sent me slamming against the wall with a yelp. The door flew open, washing the room in the light from the hall. He was there, the man with the axe. There was a faded image of him against the opposite wall with that horrible smirk on his face. My eyes widened despite the light change and their oversensitivity. I pressed even more against the wall, hoping to sink into it. The monitor wailing even more. My heart was going to explode.

“Miss Maglione?” A voice said very distantly. I was too afraid to register it. My eyes did not want to move from that spot where the image of the man had disappeared. “Miss Maglione?” The voice was like an echo. I was frozen to the spot. “Kisalia.” Someone knelt in front of me and I recoiled away. Then I realized that it was Dr. Lecter. He seemed to notice that I registered that he was there. “What happened?”

“I need to get out of here.” I said, my voice raspy. I let my eyes lock onto his, even though they were still widened with fear. I stood, trying to keep my eyes on him, anywhere but on that wall. I stood very close to Dr. Lecter as we walked out of the bedroom. I followed him right down to his office where my last appointment was held. He went right over to the powder blue couch and sat down. I did not even wait for him to pat the seat next to him to sit next to him, closer than I normally would. I still shivered immensely, and the monitor was still going off.

Dr. Lecter got up and went to a cabinet across the room. My shivering increased when he left. He came back with a blanket that he draped around my shaking shoulders. “Do you have night terrors often?” He asked as he sat back down.

I nodded, “But this is only the second time I have woken up out of bed. Usually I just wake up sobbing or my heart is racing.” I took a deep, trembling breath, hoping to calm my heart so the damned monitor would shut up. I slammed the button on the machine and ripped off the sticky pads on my chest.

“What was it about?” He asked me after several minutes.

I clutched the blanket more tightly around me, wishing that it were arms to comfort me instead. I turned to face my psychiatrist so I could read him while he read me. “There was a girl and a couple men. One of them killed her with an axe. I was her when it happened. There was snow and trees… and a ruined house with someone important inside.”

The shock in his eyes was not hidden, and it actually stayed.

“I saw the man that killed her when I woke up. He was in the room.” I searched his eyes, trying to pick up on why such a collected man would express this level of apparent emotion. “It was you, wasn’t it? You were the one in the house.” He just stared back at me with those stony eyes. He locked back down. I felt my own eyes flare under the darkness of his. There was something he was hiding, something that connected him to my dream, and for some reason that now connected me to him. Now there was a bond.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hannibal, as fun as that would be, and do not make any money from writing this.  
> Kisalia Maglione is mine, as always.  
> The title is from William Blake's "The Sick Rose" from "Songs of Experience".
> 
> I made a playlist.  
> http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLciYWOpCNGkhTM_Zmmo8261yDC04nLbor

** Chapter Four **

****

“You should go back to sleep, your body went through a lot today.” Dr. Lecter told me. “You should put your monitor back on as well.” He stood, facing away from me.

I picked up my heart monitor from the floor and used the blanket to cover myself as I stuck the pads back on. “I honestly do not think I will be able to sleep by myself for a year.” The little machine came back to life with a clipped beep. I remained on the couch, unsure of what to do.

“Come,” I was told. I followed Dr. Lecter as he walked out of his office, stumbling over the ends of the blanket. I wondered where he was taking me as I walked after him, avoiding tripping over the blanket. We went back up stairs and I shivered as we passed the room I had the night terror in, but he kept going until he reached a door at the end of the hall. He opened it and flicked on the lights. This room looked like another guest room, with two queen-sized beds. Again, it was tastefully decorated, but in blues and grays instead of reds and black, like the room I was in before. I gravitated toward the bed on the left and Dr. Lecter walked over to the one on the right. “I hope you now find it suitable to sleep, Miss Maglione.”

“This will be much better, thank you.” I smiled slightly as I sat on the bed. I still was not keen on falling back asleep, especially since I knew a continuation of the dream would probably occur.

“Goodnight then, Miss Maglione,” Before I knew it the lights were off leaving us in the same kind of darkness as in the other room. My monitor gave a soft warning beep as I felt my body start to shake. “I will be right here. Go to sleep.” Dr. Lecter’s voice came from the bed across from the once I was perched on.

I sighed and laid down, not bothering to burrow under the covers. The large blanket wrapped around me was adequate enough. I heard rustling by Dr. Lecter’s bed as he situated himself for sleep. I really wished I could see him, not only for assurance that I was not alone, but because I knew I would not be getting back to sleep that easily and I would probably be calmed by watching him sleep. _Ki, you are really creepy._ I nestled my head against the silk of the pillow case and snuggled myself into my blanket-cocoon, trying to make myself feel a bit more secure.

“You don’t get much physical contact from anyone, do you?” I heard the voice across the room ask.

“That is correct,” I said stiffly. I wondered how he could tell, but then I realized that it would probably not be hard for anyone as observant as we were to pick up on it. “The blanket gave me away, and how I sat next to you.”

“Yes. It is a shame you are not in the field of psychology.” I could hear a grin in his voice.

“I minored in psychology.” I stated. “I enjoyed it.”

“Yet you enjoy library science more?”

“Yes, I love literature more than anything.”

“But not anyone?”

 “There used to be several people who I loved more, but then the fantastical escape of literature overcame me and there were three. One, as I told you, died, and another is my grumpy old cat you probably met in my apartment.”

“And the third?”

“Well, I need to protect that one, don’t I?” I turned my head to face Dr. Lecter’s bed, imagining that he was looking back at me. I could feel that jolt in my spine that happened when our eyes locked. _Can he actually see me?_

“Why do you need to escape?”Dr. Lecter questioned.

“I thought my appointment was not until Monday?” I scoffed. I continued before the psychiatrist in the bed across from mine could state his rebuttal. “I had a lot to escape from, a verbally abusive father, building depression and anxiety that I was predisposed to through my mother, being there for so many people, but having no one that wanted to be there for me... to name a few.”

“You find a nightmare to be adequate enough a bond?”

 _Damn, he’s good._ “No, but whatever is haunting you is adequately sufficient, Dr. Lecter.” I stressed “adequately,” mocking him.

“I don’t believe your ghost stories, Miss Maglione.” His voice was tight, as if he were holding back anger.

“It is not my story, it is yours.” I yawned. “But, don’t be angry. I am not trying to make you believe anything. You’re tough, but even you have a weakness. Your mask has cracks, Dr. Lecter, and they’re getting wider. Not everyone knows where to look, but I do after years of sitting in the shadows and watching everyone else’s lives progress.”

“You would do very well in my field, Miss Maglione.” The words seemed to flow, they no longer sounded clipped and frustrated.

“No, I wouldn’t. I can’t stand people, I much prefer to hide in my books.”

“You just need to learn how to live.”

“Maybe I don’t want to. Years of degradation really catch up on one, you know.” I didn’t want to move my eyes away from where I knew Dr. Lecter’s were. I was afraid to see that man again. “Of course you know.”

“Go to sleep. I can tell that you are tired despite your fear.”

I exhaled loudly.

“I will be here the whole time. If you have another episode then we shall see if these ghosts are as real as you believe.”

 

I did not have another episode, however when I woke up I forgot where I was and stretched very loudly, arching off of the bed. When my eyes opened my body went stiff. _Shit._ I looked over, and indeed, Dr. Lecter was looking at me. I blinked. “Good morning.” I said. I wondered why I was so cold and looked down. I must have kicked the blankets off in the middle of the night, for my body was exposed and shivering. My dress was hiked up around my waist, and my legs pretty much straddled a pillow placed near my knees. _Dear lord, how long as he been watching me like this?!_ My face suddenly turned very, very red.

“You move a lot in your sleep.” Dr. Lecter finally spoke.

“I know. I have to keep my blood flowing with these small veins. Sorry if I kept you up.” I yawned and threw the blankets back over my shivering body. “Do you sleep like that? I can’t sleep on my back at all. I had a surgery where I had to sleep on my back for at least two weeks… that didn’t go well.”

“Are you always this talkative in the morning?” Dr. Lecter asked, his voice not really hinting at any sort of annoyance.

“No, I’m just nervous because you saw my knickers.” I stared at the ceiling.

He raised an eyebrow at me and got out of bed and left the room.

When he shut the door I too got up and scurried off to the creepy room where all of my stuff was. I opened the door and was shocked at what I saw. My bag and been opened and all of my things were strewn across the room. “Dr. Lecter!” I called out, my fingers digging into the molding of the doorframe in order to keep me upright.

He was behind me in moments, prying my fingers from the wood. “I suspect you did not do this?”

“Obviously not. If you knew how much I moved in my sleep then you would have noticed if I had gotten up.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to see your undergarments.” He said, with a hint of a smirk as he looked into the bedroom.

“You’re the one who packed my bag. This display isn’t exactly adding comfort to the situation, but it’s better than me modeling them for you.” I stared at the hand that was still holding my petite fingers. I took hold of it and trudged into the room. Dr. Lecter’s hand twitched uncomfortably in mine. “Just stay in here while I get everything back in my bag.” I let go and went to work at picking my clothing up. The room did not feel as tense at it did when I had woken up from the night terrors, but I still preferred that Dr. Lecter be in the room with me; and eventually he helped me pick up.

I glanced at my old clunky phone which had survived its fall from the nightstand. There was a text from my roommate, Avery. I picked up the cellphone and read the message. “Oh, wonderful. My roommate is coming home tonight, so I can go back home.” I looked over at Dr.Lecter.

“Very well, I shall bring you back to your apartment when he arrives.” He told me.

“You’ve already done a lot for me. Avery can come get me, it’s alright. It’s on his way, anyway.” I said as I stared intently at the pile of clothing I had accumulated on the bed.

“If you insist.” Dr. Lecter came up beside me with a stack of neatly folded clothing.

I shook my head. “I should hire you as a housekeeper instead.”

“I would rather not clean up other people’s messes, Miss Maglione.” The way he said it made it seem like the statement had more than one meaning.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t either. Thanks for your expertise in folding though.” I took the stack of my clothes from my psychiatrist and put them back in the bag. “I hope nothing happens to your stuff once I’m gone. It might follow me though…” My thoughts drifted off as I thought about what this entity could actually be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this is going to get more interesting from this point on.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hannibal, as fun as that would be, and do not make any money from writing this.  
> Kisalia Maglione is mine, as always.  
> The title is from William Blake's "The Sick Rose" from "Songs of Experience".
> 
> I made a playlist.  
> http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLciYWOpCNGkhTM_Zmmo8261yDC04nLbor

** Chapter Five **

****

“Damn, he sure is hot for a psychiatrist.” Avery said on our way back to our apartment.

“I know,” I said, “it is incredibly fortunate for me.”

“So, how’s therapy been?” Avery questioned suggestively with a grin.

I laughed. “Gods, Avery. I only wish. That would be incredibly therapeutic.”

“Girl, I bet it would. Damn. You are really wound up, you could use some action. Go get it.”

“Well, Mr. Avery, if you haven’t noticed we are indeed driving away from said hot psychiatrist’s house.” I shook my head with a silent laugh.

                “I would pretend to be crazy just to get to see him every week.”

                “Well, then it’s a good thing I’m actually nuts.” I sighed.

 

**_NARRATOR POV_ **

Dr. Donovan Mallory led the two people from the FBI along with the psychiatrist that he had referred his intern to through the Library of Congress. They came to two giant mahogany doors and the head librarian led them through. “And here we are. Our resident catalogue will be able to point you in the right direction of the book you are looking for.” Dr. Mallory said as the three visitors filed through the doors.

Said “catalogue” looked up from a giant wooden desk in the center of the room over the plastic rims of her black and white glasses. Her eyes crossed Dr. Lecter and she seemed to freeze up for a moment. She stood, knowing that her boss was just going to have her get up to go fetch a book like the good dog she was.

Dr. Lecter was a bit taken aback. Kisalia Maglione looked much different when she was dressed formally and surrounded by what she loved most. On her visits to him she appeared to be at least five years younger than she actually was, but here she actually appeared to be a bit older than twenty-three in her formal clothing, glasses, and pulled-back hair. She looked sinister, which made her all the more interesting to him. As he suspected, there was more to this new patient of his than she lead on. He knew there were incredibly dark depths in that mind of hers, only he did not know what was in them.

Kisalia knew that Dr. Lecter was watching her. She turned her eyes on him slowly, looked him up and down, and then turned back to her boss. “Yes, sir, how can I help?”

Hannibal was intrigued by this other side of her personality. How many sides did she have? Her tone of voice was even vastly different from how she spoke to him.

“Yes, I was hoping you could lead these people to a book they are looking for.” Dr. Mallory told his intern as he handed her a slip of paper.

Ki looked it over. One could practically see images racing through her eyes and she recalled the location of the book listed. “Yes, I know where this is.”

“Good, good. You may take them there and they may look over the book wherever they like on the premises.”

“Certainly,” Miss Maglione said as she tucked the paper into a fold in her dress. “Follow me please,” she said as she headed for a smaller door in a corner of the room. Alana Bloom, Will Graham, and Hannibal Lecter followed the trainee librarian into a different hallway and through a few more doors until they were in what seemed to be a basement. The young woman stopped briefly to scan her ID card a few times, but other than that, she kept a brisk walking pace, which seemed a bit slower than it should due to her short legs when compared to the longer ones of those that followed her.

They finally arrived in a room that was filled with old and incredibly rare tomes. Kisalia suddenly halted and inhaled deeply. “Something’s not right,” she stated quietly. Hannibal cocked his head as he regarded the girl in front of him. _She has an acute sense of smell as well._

“What do you mean?” Graham asked warily.

“Someone else is in here. No one else should be in here right now except us.” Maglione said as her body stiffened. Dr. Lecter recognized noted her body language. Miss Maglione was not someone who was blunt in her reactions; this very obvious change in her posture should give anyone reason to worry.

The power suddenly went out, leaving them in the dark. A faint beep came in the direction that Kisalia had been standing. “Will? Dr. Lecter?” Dr. Bloom called to her colleges in the dark.

“Yeah, I’m here.” Graham responded.

“Miss Maglione?” Dr. Lecter spoke into the black void in front of him. He heard no reply. Something was wrong. He felt his own body tense as he willed his senses to sharpen more quickly than they were.

Ki knew that there was something in front of her that was not there before. She could feel it, and she could smell it. A small whimper escaped her as she felt the thing approach her. _Move!_ The voice of the little girl from her nightmare spoke. Kisalia stepped to the side just as something whizzed past her head. _There._ Her own thoughts were rushing, trying to calculate where this unknown and unseen attacker was. She snapped her leg out in a sharp kick and hit something. There was a gruff grunt and she felt something else. _More than one?! That would make sense. I’m sure no one could get down here by themselves without help._ A hand snatched her arm as she was thinking and she yelped.

“Kisalia?” Dr. Lecter called out.

Ki brought her knee up swiftly, catching something that felt like a body part, and then brought her foot back down hard and fast, crushing her assailant’s foot. He cried out and cursed at her. Someone was walking past her. _NO!_ Her hand flashed out to where the cursing was coming from and felt a face, but something was on it. Goggles. She clutched at them, until they came off, but the man’s hand went around her throat. She screamed before her air was cut off to alert the others that something was indeed very wrong. She gripped what she assumed to be night vision goggles as she gasped for breath. She made her body go limp.

The lights flickered back on for a moment. Dr. Lecter saw a man near Will. Will drew his gun, but the lights went back out. A shot was fired and a man screamed. Dr. Lecter had also seen his newest patient being strangled at the front of the group by another man dressed in black. He did not want to lose that mind of hers just yet. There was too much he could learn from it. He wanted to move toward her, but he could sense someone else was near.

Ki could feel the man begin to loosen his grip and she feigned death. She brought her knee up again, aiming for where she thought his groin was; and fortunately she hit her mark. The man let go and she slipped the goggles on to her head. Her attacker was fumbling around blindly on the floor, and the man that was shot was bleeding to death from a gut wound on the floor. There was someone else near Dr. Lecter. “Dr. Lecter, in front of you!” She called out as she rushed toward the man near her psychiatrist. Letting some primal instinct take over, she leapt onto the man and sunk her teeth into his neck.

The lights came back on. Kisalia was clinging to a man in front of Hannibal with her teeth in his neck. They both had the same kind of night vision goggles on. He saw her arm whack around to the front to bash the goggled into the man’s eyes. The man let out a noise of frustration and tried to shake her off. Blood started to run from the man’s neck. Hannibal lost all thought of doing something as he was enchanted by the girl killing the man in front of him like a feral beast.

The room went black once more. Ki wanted to choke and release the man from her jaws as his blood trickled into her mouth, but she held on. She had to protect her books. The man she was on suddenly dropped to the ground, landing on her. She was being crushed, her breath dangerously leaving her once more. She grabbed at the man’s goggles, bringing them forth and then letting them snap sharply back on to his face, and then ripped them off, throwing them at Dr. Lecter, who reached down and eventually picked them up. Kisalia pulled viciously at her aggressor’s hair, causing him to scream. She kept a firm grip as she tugged fistfuls of hair out of the man’s bleeding scalp and watched Dr. Lecter put on the goggles and then walk over to the male FBI agent. There was a moment when the psychiatrist just stood there and watched her.

Will Graham had his gun ready; when the lights came back on he would try to shoot the man who was attacking the librarian. He head Dr. Lecter say his name very close to him and was then handed something. “Night vision goggles,” Hannibal told him and he quickly put them.

“Holy shit,” Will exclaimed as the scene in front of him was revealed. The librarian was straddling the man and had her thumbs in his eye sockets, which she used as handles to help her bash his head into the concrete. His attention then turned to the man scrabbling around on the ground. Although the man was not currently attacking anyone he shot him in the chest. “Get up,” he told the girl. She turned her goggled-face toward him and saw the gun. She scrambled off of the man and Will shot him in the head.

Kisalia could feel that there was someone else involved. She headed toward the power source and saw someone else standing behind a shelf. Will had not seen him yet. Ki could see that he had a weapon of some sorts; she could not tell what it was. She growled a low rumble. The other man seemed a bit shock at her bloodied appearance and she took the chance to lunge toward him.

Light flooded the room once again. Hannibal’s mouth twitched into a grin as he saw a blood-drenched Kisalia dodge another man’s knife. She avoided the attacks like it was natural. She was made for this. Her body weaved around the jabbing blade like it was an art. Suddenly she looped in front of him and struck her palm up to the man’s nose. That was not her primal instincts. This was knowledge, knowledge of killing. This girl knew how to kill efficiently. Kisalia’s palm collided with the man’s nose, sending it into his brain. In that moment Kisalia Maglione became beautiful to Dr. Lecter, as her kill’s blood gushed down her arm.

Dr. Lecter saw the girl’s body shiver with tremors as she looked at the blood soaking the front of her dress. The deep red fluid splattered her face and ran down from her mouth; her arms and hands were smeared with it. Hannibal walked up to his patient and new hobby and removed his jacket to place it on her shoulders. He loosely placed his arm around her shoulders and led the stunned young woman away from the man she had just took part of killing and back down the hall. When they passed the mutilated man with the torn-up scalp and gouged-out eyes Ki’s body shuddered more violent, however her psychiatrist was beaming on the inside.

“Wait,” She said quietly. The intern broke away from Dr. Lecter and went over to a case of books. She used the clean sleeve of Dr. Lecter’s jacket to pull a light brown, leather-bound tome from the shelf and walked over to Dr. Bloom.

The female psychiatrist looked first at the blood-stained girl, and then at the book. It was the one on plants that the FBI was requesting. “Oh, thank you.”

The girl turned away with a nod and continued down the hall. As soon as there was cell service Will called the police and alerted the FBI of what happened. Kisalia was allowed to leave after questioning and refusing to go to the hospital. Dr. Lecter intended to follow her, but the girl that reeked of fresh blood slipped away under his nose.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hannibal, as fun as that would be, and do not make any money from writing this.  
> Kisalia Maglione is mine, as always.  
> The title is from William Blake's "The Sick Rose" from "Songs of Experience".
> 
> I made a playlist.  
> http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLciYWOpCNGkhTM_Zmmo8261yDC04nLbor

** Chapter Six **

 

It was Thursday, several hours after the incident at the Library of Congress. Dr. Lecter sat in his office, the lighting low, casting dark, dangerous shadows upon his sharply angled face. He was sketching, although he did not know what, he just let his hand freely etch along the paper. Would Miss Maglione return for her appointment tomorrow evening? Now that he saw how she protected the things she loved best, he wondered with what lethal vigor she would defend the person she loved most in the world. He wanted to see how far she could go, how utterly noxious she really was. He desired that mind of hers, the mind of a killer with the heart of a martyr. What could he do with that mind? Dr. Lecter looked down at the paper he had been scribbled on and raised a brown. Before him was a sketched scene of Kisalia biting down on the neck of her assailant, blood gushing forth from the wound she was inflicting.

Friday came and went, as did Saturday; and Miss Maglione had not shown up for her appointment. Hannibal did not plan on losing his pet project this soon, so on Sunday afternoon he decided to pay her a visit. Kisalia’s roommate Avery answered the door with Ki’s giant red husky close behind.

“Oh, the psychiatrist!” Avery said once he recognized Dr. Lecter. “Unfortunately you are probably not here to see me… you do want Kiki right?”

“I am here to see Miss Maglione, yes. She did not show up for her appointment and did not call so I figured I would check on her,” Dr. Lecter replied.

“Oh how cute.” The young man swooned. Hannibal did his best to ignore this. “Well, come in.” Once Hannibal was inside and the door was shut the roommate continued. “Kika’s in the shower, but she’s been in there quite a while, so she’s either masturbating or having a fit. I’m thinking it’s the latter because she’s seemed really off the last couple days, plus Haven’s pacing,” Avery said, patting the husky’s furry head. 

“A fit?” Dr. Lecter questioned.

“You’ll have to ask her about them.”

A door on the other side of the living room suddenly opened and steam and opera music billowed out. Kisalia appeared in the doorway wearing nothing but a short black towel. Hannibal immediately noticed the angry red marks on her arms and legs, and the particularly bloody ones on her chest that disappeared under the towel. Her eyes were closed, obviously lost in some thought, which much have been troubling due to the strain on her face.

“Kika, you’ve got a visitor. Apparently he has great timing due to the look of you,” Avery called out to his flat mate.

Ki’s shot open and immediately fixed on her psychiatrist. They looked darker then usually, and a bit dulled. “Fantastic,” she said blandly and then walked out to her room, shutting the door behind her.

“Well, I was just heading out… Good luck with her,” Avery said as he grabbed a bag and headed out the door.

Hannibal took Avery’s lack of concern as a sign that this was a normal occurrence. He walked over to the door that the female husky sat beside and knocked. “Miss Maglione, you did not show up for your appointment, and the state of your body gives me further reason to be concerned.”

“Don’t be,” he heard a muffled replied from inside of the room. “You may leave.”

Dr. Lecter heard the creaking of a mattress as someone lowered themselves onto it.  The brief look he had gotten of his patient told him that she was indeed extremely depressed. She seemed so much more sluggish than usual. She did not even register the presence of someone in her apartment; that was not typical at all for someone with Kisalia’s level of anxiety. “Have you been to work since Thursday?”

“No, they don’t want me to come back. They just want to give me some sort of disability leave.” Ki’s voice sounded strained, tired.

“Are you disabled?” Dr. Lecter questioned.

“Not physically,” Kisalia faintly laughed at herself. “I’m supposed to be talking to you.”

“That is how I can figure out how to help you. May I come in? I do not find talking through the door to be suiting.”

“Hold on,” the mattress creaked again and after a few moments the lock on Kisalia’s bedroom door clicked.

When Dr. Lecter entered the room he was already familiar with Ki was already curled up around a pillow and a picture frame with her back toward him. She had gotten dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a large T-shirt in the time before she had unlocked the door. Her dark hair was still wet and hung limp against her face, completely different from the wavy, flyaway hair that he was used to. Hannibal took the chair from the desk and pulled it next to the bed. He stared at Kisalia’s back for a moment and noticed that her spine seemed more pronounced through the fabric of the T-shirt. “You have not been eating,” he observed.

“I have no appetite. I think about food and get sick,” she replied as she clutched the picture frame closer.

The fact that she was showing this level of weakness in front of him gave him greater reason to be concerned. He tried to look at what the picture was of but he could not catch a glimpse of it. He did not need to see it to know what it was though. He knew it was a picture of the dog she had lost. “Tell me about her,” Dr. Lecter said, hoping that her dropped guard would allow him to access more of her mind.

“I grew up with her. She was my first friend when I moved to Virginia. I was seven… I picked her out of a large litter; she just stood out to me. We understood each other, we could read each other more than anyone else ever could. Whenever I was hurting myself or wanting to she would be there. She’d check on me, and if I had a door shut she would body slam it until I would open it. You were right in saying that I have not gotten much physical contact. She was the one I turned to, the one I held. After having to deal with the degradation of my father I could always go sit with her and I would feel better. She was the only one to ever comfort me. Just having her around would help to put my constant fear at ease. She had had tumors in her toes and had them amputated. She was free from cancer for many wonderful years. I did not even know she was sick. One night she just starting acting weird, convulsing, and I looked in her eyes and I just knew that it was her time. I took her to the emergency vet over an hour away from my home and it turned out she had two large tumors in her heart. There was nothing that could be done, she was suffering; I did not really have much time for goodbye. I held her as she passed and then I went back to the place that was no longer a home.” Ki’s voice had become increasingly shaky throughout the story.

For a moment Hannibal wished he could feel something to sympathize with the girl that had lost the only thing that kept her stable, but there was nothing. She obviously needed to be comforted, but not smothered. Too much at once would just cause her to recluse even further away from forming a relationship with anyone else. Luckily for her, he would not smother her in any kind of affection. “What are the fits?”Dr. Lecter just went right to the next question. He did not want to lose this moment where this girl’s head was split open.

“They’re seizure-like. Then I try to claw myself out of my skin. I try to take myself away from anything sharp or pointed when I feel one coming on.”

“You cannot control them?” He found this very curious.

“No, but they are triggered, not random.”

“Is there any spot in particular that you claw at the most?”

“No, not really, just wherever my hands land. Though it does seem my heart is a target. I used to try and focus them on spots where people wouldn’t see, but now I just don’t care since I don’t live with my parents. I was afraid of being sent to another therapist,” Ki scoffed.

“Why don’t you trust other people?”

“It is a mixture of bad relationships… people seem to just use me for what they want and then drop me off at the next block. They cut me off. No one seems to care for me as much as I care for them. I was nearly kidnapped when I was seven… before Shadow.”

Dr. Lecter’s brow raised when she mentioned the kidnapping attempt. “Who tried to kidnap you?”

“I did not know who they were; still don’t. My friend and I never did anything about it. A group of guys in a white truck pulled up outside of our apartment building while the two of us were playing in the snow and grabbed us, saying that they wanted pictures. I don’t remember much after that.”

“How did you get away? You did not make it sound like it was a successful kidnapping.”

“It wasn’t, I got us away.”

“How? You were a seven-year-old child against grown men.”

“You know what I am capable of, you saw it… I’ve always been like that… always known how to use anything as a lethal weapon, how to use myself as one.” Her voice had grown steadier. “Are you done using my fragile state to obtain information I would not usually give away?”

Dr. Lecter felt his blood flowing more quickly through his veins as his eyes flared and a smirk swept across his lips. The young woman he found so captivating had had the knowledge of a brutal killer since her childhood. He wondered what he could turn her into. “How do you feel about what happened on Thursday?”

She was silent for a bit and then sat up, still not facing her psychiatrist. “My heart feels heavy, and I know this depression is not all for Shadow, but… I feel proud of myself.” Kisalia’s body stiffened, and some of her frail bones popped. She was killing herself slowly, and she knew it.

“Well, you have a right to. You were able to protect yourself and the books, as well as Dr. Bloom, Agent Graham, and myself. You saved lives more worthy.”

Kisalia’s head turned back sharply at that, her eyes calculating and menacing. She knew that was not something just any typical person would say. Her lips parted slightly as she searched the doctor’s dark, guarded eyes.

He could see the now-developed scratches more clearly. Large angry swipes ran across her pale freckled face and marred red welts down her neck. “I should bring you somewhere where you can be monitored, sedated even if need be to prevent you from harming yourself like this again.”

Those swamp-water eyes grew wide with fear. Hannibal could imagine her heart monitor wailing even though it was not attached. “Don’t,” she said sternly.

“You’re already starving yourself. If I allow your fits to continue then you will end up dead. Although that is what you want, Miss Maglione, I will not allow it to happen.”

“Please,” she begged quietly.

Hannibal regarded her with his mounting interest of the girl a bit too apparent in his eyes. She noticed it, of course, and looked slightly confused; she held anything else back. She shook her head slightly while she held his eyes as she thought of having to go to a sanitarium.

“What am I to do with you then, Miss Maglione?” Dr. Lecter asked, standing up.

Ki stared at the corner of her bed as she thought. She honestly did not know. She just wanted to be left alone at the moment; she wanted nothing to do with anyone else. She just wanted her dog; she wanted to sleep forever. “I want to sleep, but I can’t,” she said after a few minutes of silence.

“That may be so, but you need sustenance,” Dr. Lecter stated.

“I don’t want any,” Ki repeated.

“Then I will have to take you to a hospital.”

Ki’s eyes narrowed as she glared at the man over her shoulder. Without a word she got up and walked out of her room. Dr. Lecter got up when he heard a sink running. As he walked into the kitchen he saw that Kisalia was washing an apple. “That will barely be sufficient. You need more protein.”

“Well,” Kisalia said as she dried off the red fruit, “if this stays down then you can harp on me some more. How about that? I’m a vegetarian anyway, so don’t slip me any poor dead animal flesh.”

Hannibal felt a bit confused. He took this girl to be more of a predator. He was hoping to cook something special for her, but now he was going to have to be careful. “How long have you been a vegetarian? Are you really only one because you feel bad for animals?”

“It’s been about nine years; and no, that is part of it, but I just find meat to be revolting. It feels like cannibalism to me.” Ki seemed to be staring into the shining flesh of the apple, but was secretly watching her psychiatrist. She wanted to know if he was just going to be another person that thought she was ridiculous for the reasoning of her dietary choices.

Hannibal felt his body stiffen as Ki mentioned that eating meat was like cannibalism to her. “But they are not your species.”

“So? They still have lives that are worth something; they still feel and have a primal instinct to survive. We are all animals.” Her eyes were now noticeably staring into Dr. Lecter’s. She did not know how to judge his reaction to her words. As usual, this man was incredibly hard to read, but she did take note of all of his small fluctuations in posture, the feeling of his eyes, and the movement of his lips. She knew if she stared for too long she would be sucked in and the overwhelming desire would start welling up. “I have to be somewhere important soon; I need to get ready to leave.”

“You do not find my appointments to be important?”

“No, not the appointments,” Ki smirked. She still had not taken a bite from the apple. Dr. Lecter’s brow raised and then his eyes wandered down to the fruit. “I am very uncomfortable with eating in front of attractive people.”

Hannibal’s head tilted as he observed the girl. So, she was indeed attracted to him. He grinned slyly, causing shivers to jolt up Kisalia’s spine. People are much easier to manipulate when they are drawn to the manipulator.

“Very well, I shall take my leave. I do hope you survive until our next appointment now that I harbor such valuable information.” Dr. Lecter’s eyes narrowed seductively. He noted how Kisalia inhaled sharply and turned a very vibrant shade of red as he exited her apartment.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hannibal, as fun as that would be, and do not make any money from writing this.  
> Kisalia Maglione is mine, as always.  
> The title is from William Blake's "The Sick Rose" from "Songs of Experience".
> 
> I made a playlist.  
> http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLciYWOpCNGkhTM_Zmmo8261yDC04nLbor

** Chapter Seven **

 

Hannibal Lecter also had something planned for that night. His usual opera was on a brief tour of the east coast and in their place was a small orchestra comprised of talented musicians who made their living elsewhere. He had the pleasure of hearing them once before and found their sound to be immensely tantalizing. This time around there were a few new members to replace ones that had to leave, and Hannibal wanted to hear if these individuals would improve or worsen the group’s quality. Apparently one of the new clarinet players was to be showcased near the end of the performance by playing the solo piece of the Adagio of Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto in A Major. However, the artist’s name was not printed in the pamphlet he breezed through as he waited for the performance to begin.

Although the musical selections were by different composers and from different time periods they seemed to go together. Dr. Lecter immediately spotted out all of the newest members except for the featured clarinet player, who must have been rather short to not be visible from his vantage point. When it was time for the clarinet concerto, the conductor beckoned someone from the second row of musicians forward. A dark brown-topped head appeared over the dusty blonde of the male beside her. Dr. Lecter’s dark eyes glinted as he watched Kisalia Maglione step up to the music stand that had just been placed beside the conductor’s podium. Her appearance was somewhere between the refined librarian and the witty young woman from his office. Despite the social anxiety he knew she harbored, she appeared entirely at ease. He knew there would be no way this woman could speak in front of a crowd of this size, but when she was behind her instrument her confidence radiated.

Dr. Lecter’s perfect posture inched forward as she raised the reed instrument to her parted lips. He felt a sudden rush of warmth flow through him as she drew in a deep breath. The last time he had felt such a sensation was when he was near Lady Murasaki when he was a few years younger than Miss Maglione. He did not want to kill her, she was like art, art that could not be replicated. She began playing and her sound was impeccable, perfect, yet emotional. She obviously played from feeling, drawing her inspiration from her life experiences and her varying and intense emotions that pushed her over the periphery of sanity. She almost seemed dance with her instrument as her body swayed lightly, making love to each note.

When the piece ended and Kisalia hurried back to her hiding spot behind the oboe player. Hannibal breathed deeply, and gulped back a lump in his throat. What was wrong with him? He was not supposed to be able to feel this way anymore. It is not that he cared about the girl, in fact he really wanted to strip her mind down and see how it worked; how it reacted to certain stimuli. However, he was starting to desire her a bit differently. He stood in applause after the piece ended along with some other admirers. He saw the flash of wide golden eyes catch his right before they disappeared behind that blonde head.

After the performance was over and the curtains were drawn Hannibal found himself walking toward the room reserved for special patrons where one could typically converse with the performers after shows. He had tried to slip away from Franklyn Froideveaux’s stalking glare, but the stout man rose from his chair and followed his psychiatrist. The room was empty and Hannibal found himself forced to converse with his patient and his tall friend.

 

Kisalia did not have intentions of going to the room where patrons could ogle over her initially, but after spotting Dr. Lecter giving her a standing ovation, she found herself drawn there. She left her purse and instrument in a locker and followed her feet toward Hannibal Lecter’s enticing scent. She immediately spotted him in the room, merely smiling to the people who tried to get her attention as her body pulled itself toward his prim form. She stopped a couple feet away and observed the people he was talking to. A short, stubby man with dark hair and facial hair tried to keep the psychiatrist engaged. The way he looked at Dr. Lecter made her incredibly uncomfortable. She knew that look too well from years past; it was obsession, dangerous, maddening obsession. She felt a feral rumbling gnawing in her chest as her eyes narrowed as she glared at the little man.

Then she noticed the taller black man beside him and felt her insides freeze up. He was looking directly at her, his expression amused and hungry. Suddenly a figured swooped in front of her. She jolted back and her head snapped up. “Oh,” she said as she recognized the man as a member of the brass section. She could not recall which particular instrument he played. He had a hopeful, puppy-dog look in his eyes; she did not like it. “I’m sorry, but I just saw a friend of mine over there.” She nodded her head slightly upwards to indicate behind him, and slipped away.

She came up behind Dr.Lecter, speaking at one of the little man’s pauses to take a breath. “Dr. Lecter, what a surprise to see you here. One would think that you have been following me.” She smirked slyly as the bearded man’s expression drooped. This was her intention, of course. Her sadistic, jealous side was peeking out behind her pupils.

 

Dr. Lecter knew she was there as soon as she had entered the room. He knew that she had ignored others to get to him, and then watched him for a few moments before being approached by someone. She had even broken away from that individual just to get to him. He turned to her, and his eyes flared briefly when he saw the almost feline look on her face, and that glare shaded with sadism. Those eyes of his roved over her tiny form, taking in the black dress that accentuated her body and was cut low but modestly to not give too much away of her amply-sized chest. This was not her taste in clothing (it was more likely to be her roommate’s), but she looked ravishing; her makeup darkening her expression further. “Ah, Miss Maglione, you look stunning tonight, and played equally so. I did not know that you were such a talented musician,” he said as his eyes settled on her seemingly glowing ones.

“Well, I must keep myself occupied without something during this period of disability.” Her eyes flashed brighter under his. Her façade wanted to crumble under his deliciously dark gaze, but she remained steady. He turned back to Franklyn and his friend. “Miss Maglione, this is Franklyn Froideveaux, and…”

“Uh, this is my friend Tobias Budge,” Franklyn said, stumbling through the words.

“Pleasure,” Kisalia bowed her head slightly. Her voice sounded like it had a British accent. Dr. Lecter wondered where that had come from.

The young man with light brown hair that had tried to talk to her before came up behind them and snaked his arm around Ki’s waist, letting his had settle on her hip. He acted as if he were familiar with her, but the way Kisalia froze and shuddered away told him differently. Hannibal held back the urge to snap the man’s neck.

Kisalia’s head turned to look at the man who held her a bit too intimately. “I’m sorry, but who are you? We play in the same ensemble, yes, but I do not recall being acquainted with you in slightest,” she said, her voice definitely had a British accent. Her words were icy, causing the man to pull away and disappear back into the crowd. Hannibal had been watching both the man and Franklyn’s friend Tobias. The larger man was looking at Kisalia in a way that made him want to take her far away and hide her so she could never be found. That man was looking her up and down like a scrap of meat; he knew that look too well, he wanted to kill her slowly and painfully. Kisalia obviously noticed this severity of this stare and backed off. “I’m sorry, but I must be going.” She bowed her head again and took off toward the door she had come from.

Hannibal’s jaw tightened as he saw the man with the thin light brown hair follow her. He turned calmly to the two men behind him. “If you’ll excuse me, there was something else I needed to tell her.” He walked off after his pet wolf before Franklyn could say anything.

 

 

Dr. Lecter walked out in the dark parking lot where the performers and staff parked and saw Kisalia pinned against a wall by the man who pursued her. He knew she typically would be able to fight someone of his slight frame off, but she was left weak after her depression had ravished and starved her. She did not even struggle, she was just limp. She knew putting up a fight would just make in worse in her state. Hannibal approached them swiftly and silently. He picked up Kisalia’s discarded instrument case and bashed the hard plastic into the man’s skull. The man fell away and released Ki, who staggered forward with widened eyes and a gasp for breath. Her neck was already bruising. With her instrument case still in hand, Hannibal scooped up the girl and quickly strode off toward his car.

Kisalia seemed too stunned to talk. He knew she was reliving her attempted kidnapping from many years ago. She was near hyperventilating, but seemed to be calming herself down. She smelled of fear and new sweat as her frail heart pumped erratically in her chest.

“I can walk,” Ki said after a few minutes.

“You have overexerted yourself, Miss Maglione. I would rather you did not walk right now,” Dr. Lecter said as he continued to his vehicle.

“Do you want to kidnap me too?” The young woman questioned hazily as her head lolled to the side.

“No, Miss Maglione, I want to protect you.”

Ki’s eyes shot up to Dr. Lecter’s searching them for some sort of danger. No one had ever told her that; and it seemed too good to be true. _He must want something from me._ She thought to herself.

Soon they were beside Hannibal’s fancy black sedan. The doctor placed the girl in his arms gingerly on the pavement as he got his keys out. Ki’s pale hands appeared at his side to reclaim her clarinet case. “Can you just take me home? I just want to go home.” She sounded tired and terrified.

“Of course,” Hannibal said as he opened the passenger’s door. Kisalia was in the seat before he offered her his hand. When he was in his own seat he asked, “Will Avery be there?”

“I’m not sure,” she replied drearily. “I think he has a new boyfriend. He’s always out when he’s not working.” She looked out the window at the passing streetlights and clamped her eyes shut.

“How long have you been playing the clarinet?” Dr. Lecter asked. Kisalia’s thought were obviously going into a bad place, and he wanted to turn it around.

Her eyes remained shut as she mentally calculated the years. “I started when I was in the fifth grade. I originally wanted to play the trumpet, but my teeth were too messed up, so I ended up going with the clarinet because a friend of mine was playing it. I am glad I made that decision. It’s been around fourteen years I think.”

“What do you love more, literature or music?”

“What a cruel question to ask one such as myself.” Ki’s voice was growing weaker. “I must say music though. Music has kept me alive and inspired me. I hate competition though, so I decided to take the path of literature, which I am also happy about. I love both immensely."

The rest of the ride was silent as they continued to Kisalia’s apartment in Fairfax, Virginia. Ki had to dig through her bag for a bit until she found her keys and let them both in. The apartment was dark and quiet other than a light on in the kitchen and Haven’s woof of greeting. Ki immediately locked the apartment as soon as they were inside. “I don’t think he’s here,” she said as she patted the husky on the head. “Erm, you can go if you want. I should be fine.”

“Miss Maglione, you suffer from severe anxiety. If I left you here alone you would probably give yourself a heart attack. You should go to sleep. You went through a lot today.” Kisalia’s psychiatrist told her as he looked around the dark apartment. He saw a group of light switches beside him and flicked a few on, illuminating the living area. He noticed Ki’s hesitation as she stepped toward her room and came up beside her, putting a hand on the small of her back to guide her forward. She flinched at his touch and remained stiff until the lights were turned on in her room.

                She grabbed some articles of clothing from her dresser after looking around her room and then turned to Dr. Lecter. “I’m going to take a shower to wash the smell of that guy off of me, so you can… umm… go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I would not trust the cleanliness of Avery’s sheets, but you are welcome to sleep on the couch… or in here. I can sleep in Ave’s room.”

                “I shall not rob you of your room, Miss Maglione, especially after the kind of day you’ve had. Go, take your shower and we shall go from there,” Hannibal said with a blank expression. Ki nodded quickly and scurried off to the bathroom.

 

                Upon reentering her room after showering, Ki found Dr. Lecter reading through one of her British literature texts at her desk. She walked up to the side of the desk and peeked over his shoulder. “Ah, William Blake, great choice. Have you decided where you want to sleep? I’ve got giant T-shirts that will fit you. I’m sure you don’t want to sleep in that,” she said as she eyed his tuxedo.

                “I am quite content where I am and with what I am wearing, thank you,” Dr. Lecter said, not looking up from the book.

                “Oh, alright,” Ki said as she stepped toward her bed. She figured he would just wander off in to the living room after he was done reading. Since she had already slept in the same room as him before she did not feel as uncomfortable about sleeping in front of him as she normally would. She pulled back the covers of her bed and settled in with a yawn. She removed the sweatpants she had been wearing with her tank top so the doctor could not see. “Don’t forget to go to sleep,” she said as she turned to face her psychiatrist. Although she was tired her fear kept her awake, so she watched Dr. Lecter read until she finally drifted off.

 

                Ki woke up to the sound of Haven growling and barking, and what sounded like someone trying to get through the front door. She immediately knew that it was not Avery, because Haven would not be growling. Her room was dark and she could make out a figure by her desk. Her heart leapt into her throat, but then she remember that Dr. Lecter was there. “Dr. Lecter?” she whispered.

                “I am here,” he replied quietly.

                Ki whimpered as the sound at the front door became more frantic. Hannibal knew who it was, he could smell him through the doors, and he would be sure to kill him as soon as he knew Kisalia would be safe on her own. Both of them remained completely still as Haven’s barking became louder and more ferocious. Ki saw her cat dart through her bedroom door and under her bed. Eventually whoever was at the door retreated when the neighbors started waking up. Ki heard Haven slump down by the front door with a sigh after a few more minutes of barking. “Dr. Lecter?” She inquired shakily as she looked at his dark silhouette, now standing beside the desk.

                His body turned to face her and the approached the bed. She was radiated nothing but fear, and he knew that if he did not do something to comfort her that she would have a severe panic attack and strain her fragile heart. “Move over, I don’t want you to be by the door,” he said from her bedside. Once Ki scooted over to the other side of her bed, Dr. Lecter sat next to her and removed his shoes. He could still feel her shaking although he was closer. With a heavy exhale, Dr. Lecter lowered himself and melded his body against hers through the covers and placed an arm over her. Still, she shook violently and he could feel her racing pulse through the layers of the blankets. He got off of the bed and pulled back the covers. He had already removed his jacket, vest, bowtie, and cummerbund, as well as having unbuttoned a few of his shirt buttons, and he refused to remove any more in Kisalia’s presence, so he reentered the bed, sliding under the sheets in his trousers, shirt, and socks.

                Kisalia did not hesitate to push herself into his arms and bury her face in his chest. Dr. Lecter tucked her head under his chin, stroking back her soft hair. He recalled the last time he had done this for someone, for Mischa as they awaited their deaths in their family’s cabin. He came out of his palace of memories when he felt Ki’s arms slide around his shoulders to draw herself closer to him, as if to melt into him. He could have sworn he heard his sister’s soft voice say, “Anniba.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr: http://bethygreenery.tumblr.com/

**Chapter Eight**

 

            When Ki woke she was certain most of the night was a dream. Beside herself, the bed was empty and cold. It didn’t even smell like anyone else, especially not Dr. Lecter. That did not happen, that definitely did not happen. There was no way she snuggled Dr. Lecter in her bloody bed until she fell asleep.

            She noticed Avery was back on the way to her bathroom. Haven lifted her head and watched her master. The husky looked alert, but not alarmed, nothing like last night. Kisalia shivered and shut herself in the bathroom for the next half hour.

            There was a voicemail on her phone when she got around to looking at it. She listened to it as she wandered around the kitchen looking for breakfast. She froze as the emotional voice of one of her friends from the orchestra relayed new from last night. A man had been killed. A man from her orchestra had been murdered and turned into a human cello. Her mind immediately flickered back to the pounding on the door last night. Had they come for her, and then went for someone else once they realized they were not getting in? No, murderers didn’t work like that. Did they?

            Kisalia was not ready to face Dr. Lecter just yet. Even if his comforting presence had only been a dream, she did not want to see him. She was far too embarrassed. She would not be going to her appointments, she would simply occupy her copious free time with other things, perhaps she could find another job.

           

 

**_FIRST PERSON – Kisalia_ **

Days had passed. I was still on “disability” from my internship and had not found anything else to do. I most definitely had not been back to see Dr. Lecter. He hadn’t come to check up on me again either, at least not noticeably. I swore I could smell him from time to time. It was never threatening, just strange.

            I was sitting at my desk working on a paper when my heart suddenly leapt into my throat. This did not feel like my heart’s deformity acting up. It had to be one of the spirits, but I did not know if it was the man or the girl.

“What is it?” I asked the air.

Something rushed up on me. I felt the air being sucked out of my lungs. My vision blurred and I heard the voice of a little boy call out “Mischa!” I could make out the blurred form of that crushed old house in the middle of nowhere that haunted me as much as these entities.

Then the little girl screamed, “Anniba!” in fear. The way she pronounced the name sounded like she was stumbling over missing letters.

My sight cleared and I realized I was panting. This vision was from that murdered little girl. Mischa. She finally had a name. The other name she called out worried me. I knew what letters were missing. “What’s happened to him?” I shot up from my desk, knowing my psychiatrist was in danger. Mischa’s voice calling out for her brother echoed in my head. I hurried and grabbed my keys and shot out the door. I ran to my car and drove as quickly as I could without being pulled over to Dr. Lecter’s office.

Something inside of me – probably Mischa – told me to take a side door instead of the main one. I ended up taking one that led into the basement. I was hit by the smell of cloves and followed it until I saw a sheathed katana displayed on a pedestal. The small room it was in seemed like a sort of shrine. _Take it._ I took the blade and uncovered it, keeping the sheath in my left hand and the blade in my right. _Hurry!_

My pulse quickened as I crept up the stairs as silently as I could. When I reached the ground floor I recognized where I was and quietly navigated my way to Dr. Lecter’s office. Halfway there there was a wrenching in my gut and I decided to head to the upper level instead.

I was a great deal quicker going up the carpeted stairs that absorbed noise as I tiptoed down the hall. Luckily the door to the second level of the office was set back, away from the view of whoever was on the lower level. I slowly and silently opened the door and slipped in.

There was definitely some sort of struggle going on below. I figured it would be stupid to take the ladder, so I decided on the metal spiral staircase next to me, even though it would probably be louder. I looked at my feet and wondered if I should take my shoes off so I would be quieter. I decided against the idea when I heard the distinct sound of breaking glass. I noticed I had been on the balls of my feet since I had entered the house, and shifted my weight to distribute it to my outer toes to make my trip down the stairs as quiet as possible. My footsteps were still faintly audible, but I doubted they could be heard over the commotion downstairs.

At the bottom I peeked around a bookcase and saw Dr. Lecter being attacked by the frightening tall man from the night at the orchestra. The shorter man that had been with him was lying on the floor with his neck at an odd angle. I quickly scanned the rest of the room. There was no one else.

I waited until Dr. Lecter’s attacker’s back was to me to step out from behind the bookcase and advance with the blade and scabbard held at my sides.

The man – I couldn’t remember his name – had Dr. Lecter pinned to his desk and was about to stab him.

“Oi!” I yelled.

When he turned to look at me Dr. Lecter pushed him off. _Tobias Budge_. Budge threw Dr. Lecter back against the desk. I could heard the wind being knocked out of him. _He will kill him before he gets to me if I don’t do something other than stand here and shout at him._

I growled loudly, sounding like a lynx. The sound drew Budge’s attention to me while Dr. Lecter recovered. He began to swing a wire dangling from his hand toward me. It was longer than I thought it was, but I managed to avoid by hopping out of the way.

Dr. Lecter was getting up, but I did not want him to fight this man anymore. I did not want him to get hurt. I did not notice how close I had let myself get to my psychiatrist until I realized I was risking my life to protect him. He was someone else to live for. I didn’t know if the feeling was all mine or Mischa’s.

With my sudden realization of how much I cared about Dr. Lecter came a large rush of something that felt like adrenaline. I swooped in on the attacker, brandishing the blade in an upward arch toward his throat. He tried once more to ensare me with the whipping wire, but I side-stepped and caught the wire with the sheath.

Budge thought I had made a mistake and pulled me toward him. I acted stunned, but at the last moment my expression darkened and I ran him through, piercing him into the wall behind him.

I watched him die and made sure he was actually gone before I turned to Dr. Lecter.

He was seated at his desk, winded and obviously in pain. As I neared him I noticed that there was blood soaking through his pants between his knee and hip, as well as blood pouring form a wound on his wrist. I quickly closed the distance between us as soon as I saw the blood.

“Did you call anyone yet?” I asked, resisting the urge to hug him.

“No. Are you alright?” He asked.

I noticed his eyes were on my shoulder, so I looked at it. My shirt was sliced open and there was a gash in my skin. “Oh…” I must have been nicked by the wire. “Yeah, just a scratch.” I shook my head to clear it and turned back to my injured doctor. I bit my lip when I realized how turned on I was by his disheveled appearance and the pain I was feeling.

“That is more than a scratch,” he told me. “You will need stitches.”

“Well, that’s more than a scratch too,” I pointed at his blood-soaked thigh.

“How did you know to come here and where to find that?” Dr. Lecter changed the subject and nodded toward the scabbard I still gripped firmly in my left hand.

“I’m not sure you’d believe me, so I’d like to keep it my secret. Why didn’t you call anyone?”

“Miss Maglione, you just killed a man. Again,” Dr. Lecter stated, looking more intrigued than concerned.

“Yes, in self-defense,” I said, trying not to look at the man speared to the wall.

“Kisalia, you ran him through with an antique sword from the basement and stuck him to the wall.”

I did not like where he was going. I sighed and took out my own phone. Although he was in pain, Dr. Lecter shot out of his chair and snatched my cell phone away from me. My eyes widened, but remained intense as I stared questionably at him.

“I will not allow you to throw yourself in hail,” he told me, his voice still in the usual monotone lilt.

“I came to you for an emergency appointment. I stuck around a bit late because I wasn’t feeling well and did not want to drive. You knew of my interest in history and Japanese culture and told me I could look at this in your basement. I heard a struggle, made my way up there,” I pointed to the upper level, “and saw Budge break your next patient’s neck. I came down with the sword still in hand, and the man came to attack me. I fought back and that happened. Got it? Now call,” I said with a snarl. I hated lying, but this lie would help protect me and Dr. Lecter.

Dr. Lecter looked oddly pleased. He called Will Graham. Apparently they were already after Budge for the murder of my fellow orchestra member. I was questioned, but my story checked out and I did not have to go to jail. However, I would have to appear in court.

Dr. Lecter and I both declined medical attention. The psychiatrist actually hid his leg injury. The investigators were going to be there for a while longer, so Dr. Lecter led me out of his office and to a rather large bathroom.

“Will you allow me to give you stitches?” The doctor asked as he motioned for me to sit. He was one of those fancy people that had a sitting room in his bathroom.

I sat but said, “I have a very strong needle phobia, so I’d rather not.”

“What if you look away? I will numb the area and sterilize it.”

“I guess we can try,” I replied nervously.

“You will need to remove the top half of your clothing so I can get to the wound,” Dr. Lecter said.

I immediately snapped my head around to glare at him.

“I assure you, Miss Maglione, this is strictly for medical purposes.”

“Well, darn,” I said sarcastically. “Turn around and don’t face the mirror.”

“Bashful, Miss Maglione?” Dr. Lecter asked with the hint of a smirk.

“To have you see me in my bra? No. I just have something to hide.”

“Very well,” he turned around.

I quickly slipped my bloodied shirt over my head and covered up the skin below the underwire of my bra with it. I slipped my arm out of the strap of my bra so that the doctor would have room to work. “Alright.”

Dr. Lecter got up from the stool beside me and went over to a cabinet, producing a surgical needle and thread, along with gauze and some bottles filled with liquid. He set the things on a small table next to his stool and sat. He immediately noticed the old and new scars on the pale, tender skin of my upper arm. He ran a finger across them and I shivered. “I thought you did not do this anymore.”

“Old addictions die hard,” I said simply. I really wanted to kiss him. It must have been the pain and adrenaline again. _Stop_.

“Are you ready?” He asked as he prepared his supplies.

“No, but do it anyway,” I ground out through gritted teeth.

Dr. Lecter began to clean and numb the area. I watched. I usually was not squeamish, but the gash was deeper than I thought. I began to feel lightheaded, so I took a deep breath and looked away.

After a few minutes Dr. Lecter asked, “Can you feel this?”

“No,” I replied, “just pressure. I once had a tumor removed from my earlobe while I was conscious. I cannot imagine that this will be as bad as that,” I told him with a nervous sigh.

“A tumor?”

“Not cancer.”

“I am relieved.”

My insides warmed at that statement. I suddenly felt more pressure and a dull sting on my left shoulder. _The bastard was just distracting me_. I frowned. I held back a whimper building in my throat and began to shake.

“This will not take much longer. You’re doing fine.” Dr. Lecter said soothingly.

“Don’t lie,” I said through gritted teeth as I shook. I felt a sudden haze wash over me. My eyelids grow heavy. Not again. Not here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I’m back from the dead. It’s probably obvious, but I fell out of love with Hannibal as a show. Season one was fantastic, the second wasn’t bad, but three just threw me off the fan train. I still haven’t seen the last few episode and don’t really care to. A lot of you liked this one, so I am trying to renew my love for the first season and continue it. I know what it’s like to love a fic and not have the whole thing. I’m sorry. All of you are great, I appreciate every one of you and your kind feedback; it is what has encouraged me to continue. I hope this chapter will quench a three-year thirst.  
> I will need help with inspiration though. I may not take suggestions when I sit down to write the rest of it, but what would you like to see happen? I have some ideas, and I think I know what direction I want to take this fic in, but let me know what you would like.  
> Thanks,  
> GrecianUrn (I changed my name – it’s a Keats reference)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a short chapter, I'm still trying to get back into this story and fandom.

**Chapter Nine**

 

_There was a starving pale boy with a chain around his neck being picked up by soldiers in a tank._ Flash. _The boy was outside, in front of a black lake dotted with swans. There was a castle in the background._ Flash. _The boy was in the same spot being teased by a blonde boy and his friends. One boy was using a slingshot to hit the boy with maroon eyes. He was not hit. A bell rang and the bullies turned away. The young Hannibal threw something at the blonde, hitting him in the head. Then they were fighting._ Flash. _An older male was hitting Hannibal after calling him “Little Master,” trying to get him to speak, but Hannibal just held a blank expression._ Flash. _Hannibal was in the same building, but it felt happier and was decorated. He was with Mischa and his parents. His expression was no longer blank. He had visible emotions. He was capable of feeling. Love. Joy._ Flash. _Hannibal’s parents lay outside of the snowy cabin in the woods, their bodies charred and smoking._ Flash. Flash. Flash. _There were flashes of Hannibal killing the men from the cabin that had eaten Mischa. He removed all of their cheeks and consumed them._ Flash. _Hannibal was beginning to look more like the man that was stitching up my shoulder. There were more murders. There was much more cannibalism. The style of the killings became more particular, more familiar._ I recognized this method from the news, this was the work of the Chesapeake Ripper.

I came to gasping for air. I felt the burn of bile threatening to burst forth. Dr. Lecter had finished my shoulder and was watching me with that same blank expression on his face. What was I going to do with this information? I still wanted to protect him after seeing what Mischa had shown me. I knew the monster he was, but I knew why and I wanted to help. I cared about this man who couldn’t feel anything about me, and it was not all due to his dead sister’s influence.

I returned his stare, my eyes full of conflicting emotions. _There’s got to be something left in there_. I reached out and pulled that frozen, shattered man against me. His body stiffened uncomfortably at the sudden contact. No one had done this to him in a very long time. There was some maternal pull within me that wanted to reach out to the scared little boy deep within him and tell him that he wasn’t alone.

“Miss Maglione, do you care to tell me what just happened?” Dr. Lecter questioned, his rigid body was doing its best not to rest against mine.

I felt something else overtaking me; it was not Mischa.

_The boy Hannibal was lying in a bed at the orphanage. He was screaming in his sleep, “Mischa! Mischa!”_

I flung back from Dr. Lecter. My eyes bore into his, but I wasn’t controlling it. I could hear myself humming a tune that sounded familiar, something I had heard in the memories.

There it was, deep within those maroon orbs. Feeling. Hate. I was terrified. Surely he would kill me. This force that possessed me was him, the man with the axe. _Out. Get out!_ I felt panicked, but my body did not reflect it.

“GET OUT!” I roared. My voice finally came back to me. The panic rushed into manifesting itself. I wheezed as I tried to suck in air, and coughed. I rushed to the sink and vomited. “What the fuck? What the fucking fuck?” I whimpered, turning on the water to wash away the bile.

I turned around and he was standing. Those red eyes were burning. I shivered. I was frozen on the spot. _Oh gods, he’s actually going to do it_. I didn’t allow my eyes to leave his, but I thought about all of the surgical equipment in the room and shuddered violently. He didn’t move; eventually I did.

I left. He let me. I knew I wasn’t simply fleeing because he couldn’t find me. I knew he could. I now knew that he seemed superhuman. Why couldn’t he be a hero instead of a monster? My breaths were shallow as I stumbled along the sidewalk to my car. He knew where I lived; he could surely be tailing me now and I wouldn’t even know. _He’s going to kill me. He’s going to fucking kill me_. I collapsed against my car door with a sob. I fumbled as I opened the door and fell into the front seat. I started the vehicle and got out as quickly as I could. Maroon eyes watched.


End file.
